


Tremble

by SterlingChainChomp



Series: Dean has an alcohol problem [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst, Destiel - Freeform, Hallucinations, Hell, M/M, Vomiting, withdrawals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 02:37:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2835047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SterlingChainChomp/pseuds/SterlingChainChomp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dean suffers from Alcohol Withdrawal Syndrome.</p><p>I'm sorry, this is so bad, but I couldn't get it out of my head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tremble

He wished he could say that he woke up to the comforting sensation of soft, cool skin against his own, or the familiar smell of sweat wafting from the sheets, or the sound of Castiel’s slow and easy breathing, but sadly this was not so. When Dean woke up the morning after being reunited with his angel, the first sensation he registered was a growing thirst inside him. He wondered briefly how someone could be so nauseated, and yet long for a long drink of what he now realized was poison to him. The thought was quickly pushed away as a throbbing migraine blew in like an ocean storm. 

Unable to think about the possibility of disturbing the angel sleeping beside him, Dean clambered out of bed and stumbled toward the bathroom, barely managing to kneel in front of the toilet before bile forced its way up his throat, burning along the way. He knew this was coming, but he’d hoped to have more time, time to get rid of Cas, who he could now hear getting out of bed.

“Dean…?” he murmured, worry seeping into his raspy morning voice. 

“Get outta here, Cas,” Dean ordered, stifling a gag. He felt the after-vomit pain of leftover acid settling in his mouth and sinuses, wincing an swallowing. 

The angel crouched down beside Dean who was beginning to shake. “Dean, I’m not going to leave you.” He slipped an arm around the hunter, who could not help puking again as Cas was speaking, and wishing that there was something in his stomach to come up besides the sharp bile. 

Wiping drips of vomit from his mouth, Dean looked at the angel painfully, his eyes full of shame as he sat naked on the floor, trembling uncontrollably. It was hard for him to gather words through the pounding of his head. “Cas, I can’t let you see me like this. Please. I can’t, I won’t” he managed, coughing. 

Castiel moved closer, reaching for Dean, only to have him shy away. “I said I’m not going anywhere. I love you. I’m going to help any way I can. I let this happen to you.” 

The hunter looked up at him helplessly, knowing that he needed him now more than ever, and hating himself for it. This was nowhere within the realm of Castiel’s fault, but he didn’t have the strength to try to explain that. He knew also, that the angel could not snap his fingers and make this go away, it was a battle he had to fight through. Through violent tremors, he fell into Castiel’s chest, blinking back tears. Dean fought to keep from throwing up again when Cas heaved him up and helped him to bed. 

The sheets felt gratefully cool under his clammy skin, but the room was still spinning. Castiel must have seen it on his face, because he retrieved the trash can from the bathroom and placed it next to the bed, bringing a glass of water as well. 

“Cas, there’s one thing I need from you…” Dean mumbled, painfully. 

“Anything,” Cas replied without hesitation. 

“You can’t… You can’t let Sammy in here. No matter what.” 

Castiel nodded, accepting his duty to Dean to protect his dignity, what little he had left. 

For the next hour, Dean lay motionless aside from the constant wobbling of his extremities which seemed to be exhausting him. He considered eating if only to change up the flavor of his vomit, but decided that he didn’t want Cas to go anywhere just yet. It was a good thing too, because around this time he began hallucinating. 

He was fully aware of what was real and what was not, but when fake hallucinations depict actual, literal Hell, they are disturbing nonetheless. It began slowly, with faint screams that seemed to sound miles away, but as though the distance had not sacrificed any of the agony or suffering. 

Dean started, garnering Cas’s attention. “Did you hear that?” Dean asked, as frantically as he could manage. 

“Hear what, Dean?” Cas replied, concerned. 

“Screaming.” Dean mumbled, turning his head about languidly. 

“Oh… no, Dean,” Cas seemed to register what was happening before Dean did, and hadn’t the slightest idea what to do. 

As the screaming got closer, and was accompanied by snapshots of tortured souls in perdition, Dean came to some realizations of his own. First, that his dependency had been much more severe and lengthy than he’d thought, second, that he was seeing and hearing things that were not real, and third, that he would simply have to ride it out, hoping that it wouldn’t drive him mad. 

Occasionally, no matter how often he told himself that he was not in Hell, but in the arms of Castiel, safer than ever, Dean would cry out in fear and pain, eliciting a tight embrace. After about the 3rd time, there came a hesitant voice from the other side of the door. It took a moment for Dean to separate it from the voices of Hell, but when he did, he looked at Cas helplessly.

“Dean…?” Sam said, jiggling the doorknob anxiously. 

“He’s okay, Sam.” Cas said, trying to sound neutral.

“Cas? What’s going on?” the younger Winchester asked. 

The angel got up from the bed, and pulled his trousers on quickly, ignoring Dean’s jumbled and weak sounding protests. He cracked the door open slightly, looking back to make sure that Dean would not be seen by his younger brother. He quickly whispered to Sam, “He’s not doing well, but he will be alright. I will take care of him, trust me.”    
A look of understanding worked across Sam’s features, followed by a glimpse of hurt, presumably because he was not being allowed to aid in his brother’s recovery. “Oh… okay, well just, just let me know if you need anything.” he said, hurriedly. 

Castiel just nodded and closed the door. 

Dean continued to spiral in and out of the stages of withdrawal. Sometimes vomiting, sometimes rubbing his aching temples, sometimes wishing away the visions and sounds of Hell, and sometimes all of the above. This lasted for 5 days. 

Ironically, though, this experience led to some of the most “normal” experiences Cas and Dean ever had. In between his moments of sickness, the two lay wrapped in each other’s arms, watching movies, and making every attempt to keep spirits light. Castiel would help Dean into the cold shower, then wrap him up in blankets after and fetch him coffee. They made fun of rom coms, and Dean laughed as heartily as he could while watching the angel jump at scary movies. There was no talk of the past, no talk of the future, there was just the two of them. And even as Dean trembled through it all, at times, life seemed perfect. 

On the 6th day, Dean awoke lying perfectly still, his mind clear, his stomach growling, and the only sound he could hear was Castiel’s soft breathing. He stretched, cracking and popping, and sat up expecting a wave of pain which never came. He closed his eyes and inhaled, a relieved smile on his lips. 

He knew that he would have his moments of weakness, times when he needed a drink in his hand more than he needed oxygen in his lungs, but he also knew that he could face those times with Castiel by his side.


End file.
